


a promise, an oath

by MicrosuedeMouse



Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Genre: 'I love you but I'm not gonna say it exactly', Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Comfort Sex, F/M, Fear of Abandonment, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Original Character(s), Original Character Death(s), Trauma, characters are 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:54:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28519710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MicrosuedeMouse/pseuds/MicrosuedeMouse
Summary: After the sudden loss of a mentor, Kamiki tries to hide from everyone. But Bon knows she needs to face this, even if he has to force her. He won't let her push this - or him - away.
Relationships: Kamiki Izumo/Suguro "Bon" Ryuuji
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	a promise, an oath

**Author's Note:**

> First note: I've watched the anime; I haven't yet read the manga. That said, I know some of the plot stuff in the manga (especially re: Kamiki's history) from the wiki and fandom stuff. Not that this relies heavily on canon anyway, but I'm just putting that out there.
> 
> Second note: hahhh all right so. I'm an ace/demi person with a weird relationship to public sexuality. This is certainly not the first smut I've ever written, and I know I'm entirely decent at it, but I have some strange and mixed feelings about letting anyone else _read_ it. This is the most explicit fic I've ever posted. That said... I've been mulling over this fic for like a month and a half, and the thing is, I really like it. So I figure, a relatively rare ship in a not-super-active fandom is probably a decent place to start, in terms of gauging how I feel about letting people read my smut, hah.
> 
> Anyway. I want more BonIzu content; I think this ship has a lot of really great potential. Hope you enjoy.

“Are you okay?”

Kamiki didn’t even move to look at him. She stayed right where she was, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest in the middle of a futon on the floor, her back to the door. She did nothing to acknowledge that she’d even heard him speak, but he knew she had.

“Hey. I’m talkin’ to you.”

“Go _away_ , Gorilla.” She was trying to sound hostile, but her voice was too small for it to work. Bon’s frown deepened as he stared at her back, leaning in the door of the guest room where she was staying, his arms crossed. It would be one thing if she’d spoken to _anyone_ else, but as far as he could tell she hadn’t. At the end of his rope, he’d even called Paku; she’d reported that Kamiki had been sending one-word answers to her texts, when she answered at all.

“ _I wish I could be there_ ,” she’d told him, sounding worried. “ _Please take care of her, Bon. I know you guys don’t always get along, but… as mean as she can be, Izumo has a really delicate heart. She needs someone who cares enough to be there with her and push past her walls._ ”

And so here he was, dressed in the dark blue jinbei that one of the temple’s monks had offered him while his bloodied clothes were laundered, standing in her doorway at almost midnight, trying to convince her to speak to him.

“Come on, Kamiki,” he said, sighing. “Izumo. I’m not leaving.”

“Oh? Were you planning to _fight_ me, instead, then?” she demanded. Finally she moved, though only to tense her shoulders.

“For fuck’s _sake_ ,” he muttered. After glaring at her back for another moment or two, he straightened up, moving into the room and sliding the door shut behind him. His bare feet were soft on the wooden floor, and it only took a few strides to wind up directly behind her, on the futon. Then he sat down, crossed his legs, and continued to stare at her back. “Asking if you’re okay was kind of just a formality, you know. I know you’re not.”

“Then why can’t you leave me the hell _alone?_ ” she snapped back. This close to her, he could hear the way her voice shook, the way she sniffed after speaking. She was barely holding it together.

He couldn’t blame her for being upset. He was upset, too, but it didn’t affect him as much as it did her.

About halfway through their final year of high school, a high-ranking monk from a tiny temple up north had extended an offer to the school to take on two experienced exwires as apprentices. He wanted to pass along his traditional exorcism techniques while he still could, but the temple’s numbers had been dwindling for years. None of the monks who worshipped here were training as exorcists, so none of them were suitable to learn.

Yukio had deemed Bon and Kamiki the best fit for the opportunity. For the last four months and change, they’d taken the train up here every weekend to study under Master Gomi. They’d both become fond of the old man, and grown to respect the immense strength he hid behind a misleadingly frail exterior. But it was Kamiki who’d really grown _close_ to him. The man had never married or had any children of his own, but one of the other monks had once told Bon about how much Gomi loved children, especially girls. He’d always wished for a daughter, the monks said, but his work always came first, and he’d never had the chance. He’d never even married.

And Kamiki, for all the effort she’d always put into guarding her heart, had found a kind of kinship with the old man. She’d had so little family in her life, and in just a few short months Gomi had become like a sort of grandfather she’d never had. Bon was grateful for everything he’d learned from the monk, but he had a feeling Kamiki had learned a lot more, and about more than just exorcism. She’d really come to love him.

And so this week – an extended trip up to the temple, meant to be the conclusion to their training under Gomi’s tutelage – had been something of a whirlwind. They’d already been disappointed to know their time with Gomi was coming to an end. But last night, the evening before their final test, Gomi had sat the two of them down to tell them about how much he’d valued the opportunity to pass along his knowledge, and about how he hoped they’d honour him by keeping his tradition alive. He’d made it sound just a little too much like he was on his way out, and Kamiki had gotten her back up. “ _Master Gomi!_ ” she’d objected, dismayed. “ _Of course we will, but don’t talk like your time is already up! You have so much yet to share!_ ”

Gomi had smiled sadly, then, and told them: the whole reason he’d decided to take on students this year, the reason he was making this request of them now, was that his time _was_ nearly up. Cancer, he explained. There was nothing to be done; it had spread from his liver to his thyroid and, more recently, to his bones. He didn’t want them to think of him any differently. He was grateful for all the time they’d spent together, and trusted them to uphold the traditions he’d loved and practiced since he was a young man, himself.

The news had shaken them both, but as far as Bon could tell, Kamiki had managed to take it in. The next day – just that morning, long ago as it seemed now – when the three of them set off into the forest for their final test, she’d seemed… stable. It seemed like she’d accepted the news, at least as much as she could for the moment, and was prepared to face what it meant.

But she wasn’t prepared for how their test had gone. None of them were; they couldn’t have been. Because the reportedly minor demon out in the woods, whom they’d intended to exorcise with their newfound knowledge under Gomi’s watchful eye, had been a lot more to reckon with than the reports had led them to believe. Bon, knocked aside in the dirt and momentarily unable to move, had had to watch as Master Gomi threw himself into the fray. The old monk had realised what they were dealing with and put himself in the demon’s path just long enough to distract it, to let the two of them get their bearings and prepare a more powerful attack.

They’d completed their exorcism, but not fast enough. The demon had done its damage. Master Gomi’s ribs were caved in in a way that looked entirely wrong, blood frothing up with his saliva every time he coughed.

They’d pleaded with him to stay. Demanded to know what he’d been thinking, jumping into the demon’s path that way. Clutched his hands and begged him to hold on. But Gomi had shaken his head, smiling gently.

“I got to use my final moments… to protect the two of you,” he’d told them, voice wet and wheezing. He’d squeezed both of their hands, but when his gaze rolled from Bon’s face to Kamiki’s, it stayed there. Bon didn’t begrudge him that. “There could be no… greater honour. I never wanted… to die… in a hospital.”

“Master Gomi, _no!_ ” Kamiki had cried, gripping his hand between both of hers and leaning over him with angry, tear-filled eyes. “Hang on! Stay with us!”

“You’ve both been… such wonderful students… Thank you.” A particularly horrible cough had overtaken him then, scaring them both. “Take care of yourselves… and of each other. And I… Izumo.” He’d looked hard into her eyes, and she’d held his gaze, distraught. “Remember everything… we’ve learned together, my dear.”

He’d gripped their hands one more time, and then he was gone.

It was hard to say exactly how long they’d sat there with him on the ground, stunned and bereaved. Eventually Bon lifted Gomi’s body onto his back and they began the long, silent hike back to the temple. When they returned, the monks had swarmed out to meet them, alarmed and quick to help. Kamiki had still been too shocked to speak, and a few of the women of the temple had pulled her inside; it had been left to Bon to explain what had happened.

And though it had felt like they’d been out for days, it was barely even late enough to think about dinner, at that point. The monks had cleaned Bon up, taken Gomi’s body away to prepare for burial, contacted the school on the students’ behalf – really, they’d been far more level-headed and understanding than one might expect, given the circumstances. But then, they’d already known the master was dying; maybe they’d been more prepared for this than Bon or Kamiki were.

Kamiki hadn’t emerged from her room for supper, nor responded to any of Bon’s texts. After asking around, he had to assume she hadn’t even really spoken to any of the temple’s residents when they’d gone to check on her. And that was how he found himself in her room now, when reasonably speaking he probably should have been asleep. Certainly he was tired. But he couldn’t rest without making sure she was all right. Honestly, he hadn’t needed Paku to tell him that Kamiki needed someone right now. He’d known her long enough to tell that no matter how aloof she acted, she _needed_ people. And she needed someone now more than ever.

“I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me,” he told her, his voice low, and he felt a catch in his throat. He’d shed his tears out in the woods, and again back at the temple, after bathing. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have more, he supposed.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kamiki answered, barely more than a whisper.

“Of course there is,” he pressed. “ _I’m_ fucked up about this, and I wasn’t anywhere near as close to him as you were.”

Watching her move, he could tell she was crossing her arms over her stomach, like she could somehow contain her grief that way. “That doesn’t mean we have to _talk_ ,” she said through gritted teeth, leaning forward as she let her legs drop a little.

“Fine. Hell with talking, for now,” he conceded gruffly. “But you need to– experience this. Somehow. You can’t just bottle it up and pretend it never happened. And I’m staying right where I am.”

“Shut _up!_ ” Suddenly she spun in place, angry. The motion was awkward for being seated on top of a futon, but that didn’t stop her; she turned to beat her fists against his shoulders, eyes screwed tightly shut. “Shut up, _shut up!_ ”

“Hey. Izumo,” he snapped back, raising his hands to catch hers. She wasn’t _really_ trying to hurt him; if she were, she could have done. As it was she was just walloping blindly at him, a childish attempt to stop him from making her think about the day they’d had. She struggled weakly against him when his hands closed around her wrists. “Quit that.”

And then her arms went slack, and her face fell forward against his chest. The sound she made was somewhere between a snarl and a sob. “It’s not _fair!_ ” she managed, her voice muffled both by his top and by the way she choked on her own words.

“No. It’s not,” he agreed, frowning down at the top of her head. He felt hot tears leaking from the corners of his eyes even as he let go of one of her hands and wrapped his arm around her, rubbing her back through the light cotton of the yukata she wore in lieu of pyjamas. “Nothing about it is fair. It shouldn’t have happened. But it did, and now we have to live with it. It fucking _sucks_.”

Her free hand dropped to her lap, and after a moment he felt her reach up for him again, this time to curl her fingers into the front of his shirt. She did the same with her other hand when he let it go, so he put both arms around her back and allowed it. His top was growing wet where her face was pressed into him. He uncrossed his folded legs and stretched them out on either side of her so he could pull her a little closer.

“I wish he hadn’t _done that_ ,” Izumo wept, and she didn’t have to clarify what she meant. He felt the same. “Yesterday was one thing, but. At least I– at least I thought I had a _little_ time.”

“I know.” Bon swallowed hard, trying to keep his voice from cracking. His tears were sliding down into her hair, and he wasn’t sure whether it would be better if she noticed or if she didn’t. “You don’t have to explain, Izumo. I know.”

“It’s not fucking _fair,_ ” she wailed, and then her sobs broke forth, and for a few minutes she just clung to him. Bon had never really found himself in this position before, but it barely registered. He was grieving, too. They were in this together, so he just held her and let her cry. If that was what she needed, then fine. It might be what he needed, too.

Eventually her sobs waned, and his tears dried. He sat there and rubbed her back slowly, noticing for the first time how dimly the little room was lit, with just a single lamp on the floor a bit to his right. He became aware of Izumo’s ragged breathing growing more even, and of the crickets singing their quiet song outside, on the other side of the paper walls. The whole temple was quiet and withdrawn, mourning its master.

Her hands tightened in his top, and she moved her face against his shoulder, looking down. “ _Everyone leaves me,_ ” she murmured then, her voice small and broken.

“Hey.” Bon frowned again, looking down at the top of her head. “Don’t talk like that.”

“But it’s true.” Her voice was hoarse from crying. “Everyone leaves. With anyone I still have, it’s only a matter of time. No one ever stays.”

“ _Izumo_ ,” he said, a little more forcefully this time. “Listen to me. Do I look like I’m going anywhere right now?” She didn’t answer, only sniffling, so he took one hand from her back and worked it down under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You _told_ me to leave when I got here, but I didn’t.”

“That’s _different_ ,” she sneered, a trace of venom making its way into her voice, but when she tried to turn away he held her in place.

“No, it’s not,” he told her, brows furrowing deeply. He leaned close, looking her directly in the eye. “It’s not different at all. Because I _chose_ to stay. I’ve always chosen to stay, Izumo, no matter how hard you pushed. And I’m always _going_ to choose to stay. That’s not a promise, that’s an _oath_.”

Her own brows lowered, like she wasn’t sure whether she was angry or confused. “D-don’t… don’t say stupid things just to try and make me feel better,” she said quietly. Her face was already blotchy and red from crying, but now he wondered if she was blushing, too.

“Do I strike you as the kind of guy who does that?” he demanded, almost annoyed with her. “I mean every word I just said. I _know_ there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better right now. That’s not how this works. But I won’t sit here and let you believe that no one will ever stay with you, because I have every _intention_ of staying.”

Izumo was barely breathing, her grip on his shirt so tight her knuckles had lost their colour. She searched his face for a long moment, as if she might find the real meaning of his words there somewhere. When her gaze lingered for maybe a second on his lips, Bon took a breath and crossed the two-inch gap between them, kissing her.

As much as they’d always clashed, he’d also always felt drawn to her. The feeling had only ever intensified over time, and he was certain she felt it too. They’d both been too stubborn to acknowledge it. But pride didn’t feel important, now. Only this did.

Her shock passed in just a moment, and then she pulled on his top, keeping him close as she kissed him back. Her lips were salty from crying; his probably were too, he realised. He thought maybe she’d hesitate or move away when they broke to breathe – instead she just tugged him back in, desperate and wanting. She was so much smaller than him, and so full of tension and anger, but she pressed herself close to him and suddenly she was everything in the world.

His hand on her jaw slid back to cradle her head as the kiss deepened, and eventually he felt one of her own hands loosen in his shirt and then creep up to his neck. His head swirling with the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the warmth of her body pushing against his own, he began to move away from her mouth, kissing a trail up to the base of her ear and then down along her pale neck. She adjusted her grip to cling to him as he did, breathing heavily and keeping him as near as she could.

Izumo encouraged him, gently and quietly, with her hands in his hair and across the backs of his shoulders, her breaths growing short as he kissed her collarbones and then began a journey upwards once again. When their mouths reunited she seemed even hungrier for him than she’d been before, kissing him urgently and impatiently.

His hand on her back had slipped down to hold her waist, but now he shifted carefully upwards, his palm against the lower part of her ribcage, his thumb resting just below her breast. She hummed and sighed her assent, pulling him close or pressing into his hands when he hesitated, and he took this to mean she wanted him to continue. It was her turn at _his_ neck, now; she bit gently into his skin as his thumb brushed against the curve of her breast. He let out a ragged breath and tried again, his touch feather-light; her sigh caught and hitched next to his ear.

One of her hands slid into the front of his jinbei, pushing the fabric out of her way as she explored him with her lips. The awkwardness of their position finally made itself known as she leaned further forward, kissing sloppily across his shoulder, and he took a moment to wrap his arms around her and lift her onto his lap, rearranging his legs out in front of him as he did so. The weight and heat of her sent a shudder down his spine as she settled into her new position astride his thighs.

She returned to his face to kiss him again, one hand still kneading his bare shoulder; the way she breathed him in and bit his lip momentarily robbed him of all coherent thought. Her other hand suddenly found its way to the loose knot at his side, prying it apart and letting his shirt fall open.

Bon lifted his left hand to her chest once again, a little more adventurous this time; he cupped her gently, at first, to gauge her response. She gasped and maybe even shivered, a little, which he took as a good sign. With his other hand pressed to the small of her back, holding her close as she dragged her tongue across his, he began to feel her through the thin fabric of her yukata. Her body tensed up, and she let out a stuttering gasp of pleasure as she pulled her lips away from his face, tipping her forehead down against his shoulder.

“Izumo?” he breathed. The last thing he wanted to do was break whatever spell had come over them, but he had to be sure she was still on board with what was happening. Without moving from his shoulder, she rested both arms loosely around his neck and nodded, eventually pressing a kiss to his skin to reassure him. He gave another gentle squeeze and heard that incredible gasp again, accompanied by a tiny squeak that might even have been approaching a moan.

He repeated his actions a few more times, relishing the way she shuddered and sighed, before finally – oh-so-carefully – slipping his hand inside the front of her yukata and pulling it further open, letting his fingers meet her bare skin this time. Her nipples were standing at attention, and when his fingertip brushed across one she made a marvelous little sound. Curious, he returned to the spot, pinching between his thumb and forefinger. She sunk her teeth into his shoulder with a breathless sort of whimper.

Bon was slow in his explorations, paying close attention to what affected her and how. After a while she regained her composure enough to return to kissing his neck, occasionally rewarding him with a gentle bite whenever he did something she particularly liked. Eventually one of her hands trailed down his chest again, tracing the ridges of each muscle, and he felt his skin tingle and jump under her touch.

His hand on her back slowly drifted down, once again testing carefully in case of objection. After a minute or two he was able to cup his large palm beneath her ass, giving it an appreciative squeeze before encouraging her up onto her knees. Their eyes met, and she looked momentarily puzzled as he motioned for her to kneel above him, until he pulled her yukata open a little further and brought his mouth to her left breast. Her head tipped back and she bit down on a small moan as he dragged his teeth across her nipple, and he couldn’t hold in a bit of a smile.

“Ry– Ryuji,” she stammered, her fingers raking into his hair as he continued his attentions. He could have melted at the sound of his name on her lips, soft and catching on a sharp intake of breath. Her responses were the only thing he was aware of any more; he was laser-focussed on her every expression, every sound, every gasp and sigh. All he wanted in the world was to keep making her feel good.

His hands on her hips, he kissed along the edge of the skin her half-open yukata revealed, almost all the way down to her belly button. Her legs were shaking a little, her right hand clamped down on his shoulder. Dazed and awed, he worked his way back up to her chest, bringing his mouth to her right breast this time and using his hand on her left. She sighed and whimpered as he continued to nip and kiss and knead, always trying to follow whatever drew the most reaction from her. After a few minutes, he felt her tug gently on the back of his hair, and he looked up, curious.

With tender, lidded eyes and pink cheeks, Izumo sank back down into his lap and kissed him again, long and slow this time. After a second her hands found the edges of his jinbei top and pushed them gently away over his shoulders, and he relaxed his arms just long enough to let the shirt fall all the way off. Then, breaking the kiss, Izumo straightened up slightly and glanced down, untying the loosened knot in her own belt and allowing the yukata to slip away. Now she sat straddling his lap in only her modest panties.

Bon stared at her in wonder for a moment before leaning in to return her last kiss, sweet and gentle. “You’re amazing,” he breathed when they broke, and she bit her lip, trying to contain a nervously-flattered smile.

She nestled herself in against him now, hugging him tightly and kissing his neck again, pressing her bare chest to his. He marvelled at the closeness and the softness and the _warmth_ of the gesture. Surely, now, she had to be quite aware of the stiffening shaft in his pants; it was pressed against the inside of her thigh, straining for contact. He felt himself twitch as she moved slightly, and suddenly realised she was more than just _aware_ of it – she was actually _teasing_ him.

As if to confirm his suspicions, she skimmed one hand down his abdomen and then ran her fingers lightly along the skin above his waistband. He bit back a groan of pleasure, scarcely able to wrap his head around what was happening. Of all the things to finally lead them here… but then, they’d both needed comfort. He pulled her face back to his to kiss her again, just hoping she understood what he was telling her.

Izumo kissed him back just as deeply, sighing into his mouth when one of his hands returned to her breast. Then she shifted in his lap again, and a third time – she was grinding into him, cautiously but intentionally. He couldn’t take much more of this.

“Izumo–” Scarcely able to speak, Bon wrapped his arms around her and began to rearrange them both, this time laying her down across the futon. He searched her eyes, still seeking permission, and she looked at him with a shade of anxiety but mostly with desire, one hand reaching to stroke his cheek. He knelt above her and kissed her neck, sliding one hand down across her smooth stomach and just appreciating the warmth of her skin.

Her hands went first to his back, eventually shifting downward, exploring the muscles and scars as she went. She hesitated briefly when her fingertips met his waistband, but then she slipped beneath the cotton, and he muffled a groan in the curve of her neck as she gripped his ass with both hands. Unable to resist, now, his own hand crept further downward – over her panties, not under, just in case – and she gasped as his fingers met the damp fabric between her legs.

She lifted one of her knees up to his hip, apparently instinctively, and a small moan escaped her as he traced a careful, experimental line up her slit through the cotton. “Ryu– _Ryuji_ –” she gasped, pushing into his hand perhaps without even realising she was doing it, so he touched her with a little more intention. She bit back another moan and nodded, her eyes shut tightly, and ground into his fingers again.

Just as he slipped his hand inside her panties, stroking lightly against her wet entrance, she brought one of her own hands down from his backside and wrapped it around his erection, inside his trousers. Each of them gasped at what they were feeling, momentarily frozen in place.

“God, Izumo,” Bon murmured, resting his forehead against hers for a second or two. Then he felt her pushing at the waistband of his pants, trying to get them out of her way, and his pulse quickened. For a moment he sat up, taking his own hand back to push the trousers down to his knees, then hooking his index fingers under the waistband of her underwear and – after another quick glance at her face to check that it was okay – tugging them down and off her legs. When he leaned down to return to her, awkwardly kicking his pants off as he went, she reached up to take his face between her hands and kiss him hard.

Izumo’s leg raised up around his middle again, and he took the hint, reaching down to touch her properly. She was slick and hot and began to breathe harder the moment his fingertips made contact. She wrapped one hand around his cock again, but she could scarcely focus enough to do more than that as he ran his fingers up and down her lips, exploring. “ _Oh!_ ” she gasped as he pressed a little harder, finding her clit with the pad of his thumb. The arm she had wrapped around his shoulders tightened, and she pulled him in for yet another clumsy, wanting kiss.

Her reactions grew more noticeable and less restrained as he continued, though he could tell she was working hard to stay quiet, aware there were plenty of other occupants in the temple. After a few moments he dipped one finger carefully inside of her, watching her face as she shivered and bit back a moan. Her breathing began to grow ragged as he tried again, slower this time; getting a sense for it now, he pumped one finger, then two, in and out of her core. She tried to reciprocate the attention with her hand on his stiff cock, but clearly she had difficulty concentrating. He felt her nails dig into his shoulder blade and a shudder run down his spine, straight to his erection.

“Ryuji,” she breathed, after another long, deep kiss. “Ryuji, p-please…”

He studied her face for a long moment. He wanted to, _god_ he wanted to, but he also had to make sure he knew what _she_ wanted. “You’re certain?”

She bit her lip and nodded hurriedly as his fingers slid inside her again. “I’m sure. _Please_.”

“Okay.” He kissed her jaw, her neck, as he pulled his hand away and shifted his position above her. Glancing down for a moment to get himself aligned, he rubbed the head of his cock over her clit, and she let out a noise between a gasp and a groan. Then he pressed carefully, slowly, inside of her. She was more than well enough prepared, biting into his neck to stifle a moan and wrapping both arms and both legs around him as she welcomed him into herself.

“Oh, _fuck_ , Izumo,” he gasped, pausing so they could both adjust to the feeling. Her body squeezed around him and he shuddered, barely swallowing a groan.

“ _Ryuji_ ,” she whispered back, her thighs tightening around his hips. “Please…”

Now that he had his bearings, he obliged her, pulling almost all the way out and then once again thrusting in slowly, until he was sheathed to the hilt. He’d never felt anything like it; his head was floating as Izumo clung to him and squeezed. He began to pump, slowly and carefully at first, listening to her whimpers and gasps like he meant to commit them to memory.

“More,” Izumo whispered, digging her nails into his shoulders and scratching. It was like a magic spell; he obliged without question, no thought in his mind except to give her exactly what she wanted of him. She mumbled it again, her voice cracking in the middle, and he picked up his pace even further, barely breathing himself. He hunkered down on his forearms, scooping them beneath her shoulders and holding her close to him as he thrust. “Ryuji, _more,_ ” she begged again, sounding close to tears, and all he could do was give her what she asked for.

Her body fit him like a glove; squeezed him tightly with every push. Her shallow, uneven breaths were all he could hear – until she pressed her heels into the small of his back and began to gasp out a tiny moan with each thrust, her head thrown back against the pillow and her hair splayed out to the sides. “ _Oh– oh– yes– yes_ ,” he heard her breathe, her pitch rising with every stroke of his cock inside of her; her nails were scratching welts into his shoulder blades. It all only served to egg him on, determined to hold out as long as she needed him to, to give her exactly what it was that she wanted from this. His pace grew faster, more frantic, his thrusts rougher, and suddenly one of her hands left his back to clamp down over her mouth as she tried desperately to contain the sounds of pleasure escaping her.

“ _Ryuji, please– yes– oh god– oh god! Ryuji!_ ” Her voice was muffled by the palm of her hand, but understandable nonetheless. Izumo curled around him, shuddering and clinging and nearly _weeping_ through her climax. “Don’t stop _–_ _oh!_ O-oh my _god_ , Ryuji, _don’t fucking stop_ –” He followed her instructions, both verbal and bodily, as closely as he could, but his own climax was growing more and more difficult to hold off. Eventually her hold loosened, and she relaxed into the futon, planting her hands on both sides of his head and pulling him down to kiss him fiercely. She combed one hand into the back of his hair and gave him a firm tug, and suddenly he felt the floodgates open. Two, three more stuttering thrusts into her and then he pulled hurriedly out, spilling his orgasm across her stomach.

It took a few long moments for him to catch his breath, arms and legs all feeling like jelly. When he finally trusted himself to speak again, he looked down at her stomach and grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

“It’s okay,” she responded, her tone gentler than he’d probably ever heard it. It was almost strange. Then she craned her neck and tipped her head back to look around the room, adding, “Someone left me a box of tissues…”

Bon followed her gaze and spotted the box in question, sitting next to a small wastebasket, a little out of her reach. He shuffled up on his knees to grab it, using one tissue to clean himself up as quickly as he could before returning to do the same for her. Gently he wiped her stomach clean, piling tissues on the floor next to him, and then he wiped her damp thighs as well. When he was sure he’d finished, he got back up and took the dirty tissues to the wastebasket, making a mental note to empty it himself in the morning.

When he turned to look at her again, she’d sat up and shrugged her yukata back on, though she hadn’t tied the belt. She was watching him, looking almost nervous, and shy as well, cheeks pink and brows knitted. The image stopped him in his tracks for a second, his heart thudding in his chest.

After a moment he tore his eyes away from her for long enough to locate his jinbei pants and tug them on. Izumo was still watching him like she wasn’t sure what he was going to do next, but as soon as he had the trousers up around his hips, he returned to the floor, kneeling next to her and pushing carefully on her shoulder. She took the hint slowly, laying down only when he gave her a gentle smile. Then he reached to turn off the lamp, nudging her until she made room for him to join her. Squeezing onto the futon with her, he tucked himself in behind her back and pulled her flush against his chest, one arm snug around her middle.

She was half-holding her breath, still apparently uncertain, and he tipped his head forward to bury his nose in her hair. “I told you,” he breathed, just loudly enough for her to hear. “I’m choosing to stay, Izumo. Tonight, and from now on.”

There was a moment’s quiet while she let that sink in. “You promise?” she asked finally, her voice tiny.

“More than promise,” he assured her, tightening his embrace for a lingering moment. She let out a long, slow breath, finding his hand on her stomach and weaving her fingers between his. Her posture was beginning to relax as the day’s exhaustion finally overtook them both. “I’m not leaving you. This isn’t just because of Master Gomi. I’ve known since long before today that I want to stay with you.”

“Okay,” Izumo breathed, allowing herself to melt back into his chest. “Good. Because I really want you to stay, too.”

“I’m yours, Izumo,” he sighed into her hair. He knew this didn’t make anything better; that tomorrow they’d wake up and Gomi would still be gone and they’d both still be grieving him. But if she could find any comfort in him – if they could find comfort in each other – at least that would be something. At least they wouldn’t be alone.

He was never going to let her feel alone again.


End file.
